


Escapism

by orphan_account



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Retail, Angst, Body Dysphoria, Bullying, Character(s) of Color, F/F, F/M, Female Loki (Marvel), Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), High School, Hurt/Comfort, Male Loki (Marvel), Nonbinary Character, Slice of Life, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 08:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16971075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: High school, it really helps us hold fast to our dreams, doesn't it? Of escaping.





	Escapism

**Author's Note:**

> brief mentions of transphobia and body dysphoria. genderfluid loki nb reader

School, it really lets us hold fast to our dreams, doesn't it? Of escaping.

Mr. Murdock's voice drones on, ceiling fans whir. You contemplate slipping earbuds through your hoodie - music is truly Messiah to the senses. What would it be like? Outside, you notice. Puffs of light grey clouds pop up. Wind howls ever so gently, the trees begin to dance in an easy wave. The world appears still, silent. It's golden, really. To disappear.

Perhaps another day.

Mr. Murdock calls to you.

Freddie Mercury sings, " _I want to break free_!"

Again. People are staring.

_"I want to break free from your lies always so, self satisfied, I don't need - "_

A pencil jabs your shoulder, it's Sam. He gestures to the front and you lift your head up, cringing. You glance at Sam, but he puts his head back down, reading ahead. Matt Murdock, relatively new teacher, relatively old methodology. "How nice of you to join us." There is a soft, almost wistful smile on his face. "If the Earth were to double in size, but have the same mass, would your weight increase or decrease?"

You want to giggle, what an ominous thing to ask. Physics questions always sound like something that Tony would ask when he was high. The class listens in to your soft intonation, "Your weight would decrease to a quarter of what it was, because," Kamala and Miles snore through your dulcet delivery. Fans whir on.

Thor takes over. "The force of gravity between two objects is inversely proportional to the distance between the center of mass of the objects squared," He is enthusiastic and sure with his words. It'd be nice if you were too.

The bell rings. Sam leaps, already at the door. Thor and Bruce exit, muttering about stuff. Stuff you don't care about.

"Hey, hang back for a second." You bite back a groan. Murdock's visage is set to gentle smile. Your body is hunched.

"Have you been keeping up good habits lately?" Ah yes, you had a 69% in here - you're almost proud. End of the quarter, you had to get an A on the chapter 7 test for just the chance of making a decent grade.

You clutch your bag, "Yes, I'm fine."

"Certain?"

You want to cry, but you look up and smile weakly at your teacher. "Yes. It's just busy, end of the quarter and grades are due and all." You manage a chuckle.

He nods, stroking his chin like it's a magical beard. "Okay."

You scatter. Adorn bag. Ready, set, "Try to get enough sleep!"

"Okay, have a good day, sir!"

"You too!" You exit to shuffling papers. Bumping. Friday! Maybe today you would get to watch that new show everyone's been talking about.

Lunch time. Your usual spot, friends out of convenience. You toddle about. Large tree, shade, no freshmen had decided to edge nearby.

"Thor, Thor," Tony breathes between laughs, "aren't you gonna invite your brother? Look at that guy!" scrawny, greasy, long hair sitting against a pillar. Meagre lunch, corned beef sandwich that mama made with love. There's a banana waiting for them, they're eating alone. There's an odd gnawing sensation in your chest, you ignore it between bites.

"Speaking of Loki," Natasha chimes on, "What do they, uh, go by? I don't want to ask."

Tony laughs harder, "Wouldn't want to assume anyone's gender, 'specially not Thor's aids paitent brother!"

You purse your lips, feeling like that picture of wolverine looking at the year. It's not that bad, you try and console yourself.

"Anyone can get aids," says Thor, "Not just gay people! And my brother is just going through a lot right now," he motions with his hands.

When the bell rings, you slouch. It's awkward, maybe you'd wait til you were 18 to chop off your hair, or at least until you graduate and everyone goes their separate ways. You remind yourself, of course you can disappear. Hairy, miscolored skin, too fat nose, yes. You're packing your bag again. Everyone disappears.

Small steps upstairs. Steve is there. Meander towards the line up, shoes clicking against the laminated floor. Amicable smile, "Hey!"

"Hi," says Steve. You nod your head, "How come you weren't sitting with us today?" Tentative emotion coats your voice.

"Oh sorry, the principal wanted to talk to me. I won a scholastics, silver national! For my drawing." Of course he did, he drew the president.

You smile, "That's great!" Students pace in, talking talking. You take your usual seat, always next to Steve. He bites his lip, why's he making that face? He picks up his bag and goes to sit next to Carol. Talking about musicals and whatnot.

Fury walks in, we're learning about parametrics today. The sound of note taking is familiar. Just disregard it.

Yes, do that. Don't think about how Steve is laughing with Carol, using some of your jokes. They're still your friends. Your handwriting is slower today. Maybe it's the cold.

Yes, it's definitely the cold.

*

"Did you work hard today?"

"Yes."

"Good, you know if any of your grades drop, we'll pull you out of the school and back to the neighborhood one."

"Yes."

The sight of your father's car is familiar. He smells like sweat and his accent is a bit slurred from a long days work. You dump you bag into the backseat, taking the time to just unwind, and your body decompresses. Eleven hours of school, every day.

"Text mama and ask her what she's cooking." Buildings and bridges whir by.

You don't hesitate, "Ocra, spinach and naan."

"Vegetables again today?" The interstate is backed up, there's a possession in the way his finger taps against the steering wheel.

"We have Keema from yesterday." Headphones in.

Takes an hour to get home. There are bills, some from the bank, some from the hospital. It smells like good food, at least. Mama does the hand waving thing she does when she's stressed.

They talk about bills in the tongue of your country, the one you don't understand a word of. You kind of wanted to text Kamala, but she's busy all week.

"Where are you going off to?" Your mothers voice is shrill.

"Homework." You pick up the pace, bare feet pitter patter against the floor.

"Do the dishwasher."

"But - "

"Ya, these kids, you don't see me complaining when I do housework." You need to learn to do the kitchen, no man will want to marry you this way!"

It's a loosing battle. Volume goes up, you tune out her tirade "Yes, Mama."

You thought maybe you'd get to play the PS4 today, but you were mistaken. You can hear them talking about bills, no groceries for 2 weeks. Gas. You didn't think itdi get this bad.

"House of the Rising Sun" floats through your ears, and you feel kind of apprehensive.

*

The bus lot quietly works away. Clint is fortnite dancing, and you're listening to your favorite. Thor and Loki unload off the bus in front of you, and you're kind of curious what they're talking about. You're tempted to catch up with them, but the look on Loki's face doesn't inspire enthusiasm. What kind of music does he listen to? Jazz? Pop? You scutter down the hallway, it doesn't matter. You don't care, it's just Thor's weird anime brother. But then, you're the kid he saw laughing to herself the other day, so maybe he thinks you're a loser too.

You're near the class you spend most of your mornings in making small talk with Sharon, only to come to a quick halt - "Miss!" It's one of the English teachers.

Swivel, you can hear your heartbeat, "Yes Ma'am?"

"Where's your ID?"

Panic. Your breathing is irregular as you snatch around your neck and into your pockets - "Oh, I must have left it this morning, uh,"

"You can't go to class without an ID." you glance at your blonde friend next to you for help, only to notice she doesn't have an ID either.

Of course she doesn't. Security picks and chooses who has an ID and who doesn't, and their lottery is as random as an airport security check.

"You're a junior, right? Come on, grow up. You know you can't get away with coming to school without an ID, did you think we wouldn't notice?"

"No Ma'am, I'm sorry, it won't happen again - "

"No, stop running your mouth. this is a school. If see you doing something you shouldn't be again, I'll have you written up. You know colleges check referrals right? You don't want to ruin your future, do you? You look like a good kid."

You think of your parents and your heart drops. "No Ma'am. I'm sorry."

"Good. I won't be letting the dean know this time." She saunters off and you hobble to the bathroom, leaving Sharon dazed. Some girl glances at you, and thankfully doesn't ask why you're hiding your face.

It smells and the door moans and she leaves. You're alone.

"I'm okay, I'm great." You whisper, clutch the sink, deep breaths, 4-7-4.

Click! There's something wet.

"I'm okay. I - I'm okay."

You feel like Peter, there's a frog stuck in your throat. You thought of your grades, this is your worst semester yet. You thought of your parents.

"I don't - don't wanna disappoint them - "

School can suck.

"I'm not incompetent, I just need to study. It's my fault for sleeping so much, and i woke up late and still forgot my ID. It's my fault. I'm a dumbass. I have two braincells. It's fine - " Deep breath, "I'm fine, I'm overreacting." There's a warm liquid on your face and you're quick to wipe off the offending liquid.

School can really suck.

A bathroom stall creaks - shit! Fuck! Someone heard you.

It was fucking Loki.

Your eyes meet in the mirror. Green, sort of blue in near the pupils. They looked a bit shocked, and opened their mouth to speak and you give them a wobbly smile.

"Hah, school, am I right? You know how AP classes are and all - I'll just - "

They don't quite register what happened by the time you left.

You pass by again in front of the cinematic arts building and you refuse to look at them.

*

Retail. Retail can suck too, but you wanted to help your parents out. Yup, another proletariat consumer feeding into the capatalist machine. Hm, maybe someday someone should try to break this system, but not today.

You're imagining things - that's not Thor, is it? Of course it is. You could spot that beautiful man from a mile away.

He smiles at you, "Hello!"

You laugh in broken notes. "Hey, Thor! What can I do for ya?"

"I didn't know you worked at the dollar store - I love this place, it has eveything! You know my mom comes here all the time. Me and Loki always get a balloon." You tilt your head. That nice lady who always asked for two helium balloons and bought a pack was Thor's mom? She tipped you fifteen dollars once! "Hey, are you okay?"

That snaps you out of your trance, "Yes, fine, thanks!"

"Ah, well," he ponders a minute, "do you have Instagram?"

Sure you had it on your phone, but only to lurk, "Yeah, how come?"

He grins, "You've gotta add me ,right now!"

Clammy hands reach into your pocket. "Just search up my usual alias, I'll add you back when I can."

"Wonderful! Now," his smile gets even bigger, "You, and me," he walks across the counter, is this allowed?

"Selfie!"

"Wait, no - " click!

"Ah, don't be like that, you look great!" he shows you the screen. Wide eyes, taken off guard, you are surprisingly photogenic.

"Nice," you mutter.

"Indeed! Now, who to send it to..."

"Wait, Thor!" It was too late. He was really enjoying this.

"Don't worry, just my brother and our friend group. They're not bad."

Loki.

Fuck.

"Hey, he already sent one back!"

Your face and neck feel hot. Thor shows you and your eyes go wide. Usually Loki had an impassive look on their face but they looked really cute. Their hair was pushed back, showing off almost profound cheekbones, and his teeth bit on his lip a little - hands turned into a heart shape.

Thor snatches the phone back, "Oh, I'm saving this! He never smiles in pictures."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I wonder. It's just me, but," you could almost see the lightbulb over his head, "of course! You're here too!"

You look down. "Me?"

"Oh, you have no idea, right? Anyway," he sets a pack of balloons, peanut butter poptarts, and milk on the counter, "this is all."

You ring him up quickly. "Thanks, Thor!"

"No problem! See you tomorrow in hell and good company!"

You adjust your clothes. Did it get hotter in here?

*

You bought two canvases for yourself - AP studio - before trudging back home. This is what you get for procastinating. Your shoulders hurt and cars are riff-raffing. So are you.

Do you turn this street? Or keep going? It's cold outside tonight. Keep going, you think. You pass suburban homes, the lighting is nice but you can't afford to capture it.

You spend a while admiring the sun before realizing you're hopelessly lost.

Fuck.

Google maps? You check surprisingly, but you have Cricket and not surprisingly, there's no service out here. But the GPS chip should still give you something. Once it has loaded, you are greeted with a loading symbol. A forever rotating bar. With every revolution, it stirs up something within you like a wind up toy. With each twist, anxiety amasses at the pit of your chest. The sore lump sitting there steadily growing bigger. Anxiety turns to distress. You had depended on technology, infallible technology. It surely had an answer, but it stares at you, silent and mocking. We apologise, it says, please check your connection.

And at that moment, something snapped. Nobody texted you unless it was for homework help, you were failing school, you had no friends, you were broke, and you flung your large, cheap phone across the street.

"Ow!" You hear a smash.

Decency overtakes anxiety.

"Oh my God," you pray under your breath, "hey, are you okay? Oh my God, I'm so sorry," does this count as battery? Were you going to jail?

Your parents eyes flashed. Jail. Criminal record. You'd never go to college. You deserved this. Who throws their phone? Yes, you've had this coming all along. You can't even laugh anymore.

"Hey," says the voice, "calm down."

Speak of the devil and they will appear.

You pivot, "ah, um, I," birdsong of anxiety.

Contrite words. Softly spoken. Blinking slowly. Silence overtakes you when you gaze at each other. Your lips won't cooperate.

Loki? When? Why? How? They put up a hand, glaring.

"Don't feed me any of that patronizing shit."

You notice. They're in a loose fitting tank top. When they weren't wearing the black hoodie, they were actually pretty toned. Black hair all mussed from the wind, they had that wistful sort of adrogynous vibe you were going for.

"Loki - I'm sorry, I - " why were you tearing up?

  
They looks bewildered all of a sudden. "Now please calm down, I don't know how to comfort people - "

"I'm fine!" You said, "I'm not upset, it's just, it's like this sometimes! I'm totally alright," they're at a standstill.

"Why are you - "

"I'm not!" You choke out broken words. You can't look at them. You shake, echoing. “I'm. I'm. I-I! I'm not crying” It's your vision really. “I'm not,” you cry quietly. You're just burdened by myopic, watery goop.  You're a broken record whizzing, "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay,"

Loki's hugging you. "It's okay."

They're tall and their voice is silky and they have nice warm arms, like a wearable hugs.

"I'm alright,"

"It's alright to not be alright." They hug you tighter and you sob into their shoulder.

*

You don't speak. Loki doesn't either.

"Thanks."

"It's no problem. I like hugs." Your eyes widen at their confession. Yes, people break down, you are no exception, it's okay. You stare at them for a moment, hugging their knees close to their chest. You're sitting on top of Thor's busted up red Corolla. Feels like 2004.

"Hey." They. You don't respond. A little louder. They lean in close, "Boo."

"Ah!" You drop your phone. They laugh.

"What's wrong? What are you thinking about."

You're silent for a moment. "I dunno. Life, the future, I guess?"

They nod, understanding, "What's your dream?"

You smile, "The dream, yeah. I have a dream," you murmur feverently, "I want to make movies."

They crane their neck, "Oh?"

Your face tells this sort of suppressed explosion of thought. You're pursing your lips, a tad excited. Softly, you speak, "Yeah, direct movies tell a story."

They stare at you a moment longer before going back to homework. You deflate from their impassive persona but continue nonetheless, "Because a movie is just like life without the useless parts, and - "

"I know what you mean." Your eyes both have fireworks, sparks of dreams that never met reality, "for me I kind of - want to be an actor. Like a kid, pretending. Makes you forget."

"That's convenient." There's yearning in your voice.

"Yeah."

They go back to writing and you grab your phone, shuffle.

They at you and does that, nod thing, "You listen to... Music?"

You smile at their sheepishness, "Yeah."

"Can I..."

You hand them an earbud. It sends you both into quietude.

**Author's Note:**

> kind of a vent fic, I have nothing more to say


End file.
